Life goes on
by Severa Snape
Summary: Severus Snape is heartbroken when his old colleague dies, but his current colleague is there to pick up the pieces.
1. Chapter 1

He was crying. Actually crying. Tears were running down his face as his shoulders shook. She had never seen him like this and, despite her own grief, her heart ached for him.

Minerva had died. She was old, and ill, and then she died.

There had been a small funeral. She hadn't been headmistress for years and had not wanted school governors, ministry officials or any other sort of officials at her funeral. Just the people close to her. The ones who had kept in regular contact, even when she became old and ill.

Molly and Arthur Weasley were there with a few other order members, like Kingsley and Emmeline. A handful of family members, mostly cousins, and some of her old colleagues, Flitwick and Sprout amongst them. Hagrid, Harry and Hermione. And Severus of course. Severus, who had been her surrogate son, even if he didn't realise it. Severus, Hermione's colleague at the research department of St. Mungo's Hospital and her reluctant friend.

After the burial they had all gone back inside for some Scotch and memories. Hermione had gone to the ladies to charm the tear tracks from her face and then went looking for her friend. She had seen him sitting rigidly in the back during the service. She had wanted to sit beside him, but Harry had pulled her to the front to sit with him, Hagrid and the Weasleys. Severus had sat alone.

When she couldn't find hem amongst the other mourners, she got worried. Would he have left already? She mumbled something to Harry about having to go, wrapped her cloak around herself and opened the door.

He was sitting beside the grave. Not rigidly anymore, but completely curled up in himself. As she came closer she saw the tears and the shaking of his shoulders with each new sob. When he noticed her approaching he got up and angrily wiped his eyes. 'Don't, Severus', she said as she reached him, gently pulling his hands away from his face and holding them in her own. 'She's worth your tears.'

New ones welled up in his eyes immediately. 'I'm so sorry, Severus. I'm sorry Minerva died and I'm sorry you're hurting and I'm sorry I didn't sit beside you. I should have. Please let me take you home.'

'I don't need…', he began.

'Oh, but you do. Don't worry, I won't tell anyone, but we should go now, before they start filing out.'

She inclined her head at Minerva's grave, tightened her hold on his hands and apparated them neatly into his sitting room.

'There,' she said, 'give me your cloak and sit. Cry, yell, scream, let it out, Severus. I'll make tea.'

When she returned he was sitting on the couch. No longer crying, but looking defeated. She sat beside him and handed him a steaming mug. He sniffed it.

'It's just tea, Severus. Honestly, I know better than to drug you. Besides, grieve will out, you shouldn't try to push it away.'

'I…'

'You hate that I'm seeing you like this, I know. You think it will make me think less of you. It won't. How often have you seen me cry? Too often. I cry about every other patient that enters our research programme. It annoys you. I know, it annoys me too. I mean, I don't even know these people! Yet sometimes you whisper to me that it is my strength that I care so much, and then I feel strong again and ready to push further and further, just to cure one more. And another one. And another one. If there isn't weakness in compassion, Severus, there certainly isn't any weakness in grieve. You loved Minerva. What am I saying? You love her. You will love her for the rest of your life. That doesn't suddenly end just because she died.'

He took a deep shuddering breath as she stroked her hand down his back.

'Go upstairs, Severus. Change into something more comfortable. Shower if you will. A good cry in the shower always makes me feel better. I'll be here when you get down again. I'll order us something to eat and we can talk about Minerva. Or just be silent. I can be silent if you want me to be.'

He didn't reply. But he got up, placed his mug on the table in front of him, and as he passed her on his way to the stairs, she softly skimmed his fingers over the top of her head.


	2. Chapter 2

Standing under the spray, he let the tears fall freely again. Minerva! Minerva had gone! Minerva had left him! Minerva, the only one who had seemed to love him unconditionally. He could yell at her, he could sulk in her presence, he could be sarcastic and she would still gaze at him with that look that told him she cared. He could also tell her some of his worries, although he always tried to keep private things private. But sometimes they just spilled from his mouth and she would listen. She wasn't 'loving' per se, but would give him advice in her brusque manner or inquire later how he was coping. It was more than anyone had ever done for him, and now she was gone and he was alone again.

But was that true? Hermione was downstairs. Hermione, with her bleeding heart. Why was she here? Was she just feeling sorry for him? Hoping he'd stop crying so she could leave? Somehow it didn't feel that way. It didn't sound like her either, even in his own head. How long had he known her now? Twenty, twenty-five years? She'd been his student from the age of eleven. Then there had been the war, of course, and then there were years when he barely saw her. They'd run into each other at the occasional order function and he would always end up speaking with her for most of the night, but then he wouldn't see her for months. And then, a few years ago, when Minerva retired and he decided he didn't want the headmaster's job, he applied for a research position at St. Mungo's and on his first day there found Hermione in the lab. She'd smiled broadly at him and told him she was 'So excited to work with you!' He didn't share the sentiment at first, but after a few months he'd had to concede that they, in fact, did work well together.

He remembered the exact moment their working relationship changed. He had walked into the lab to find her yelling at their incapable assistant. Her impossible hair had crackled with anger with what must surely have been the assistant's six-hundred-and-forty-fifth careless mistake. She had fired the man on the spot. And when the assistant ran out in tears, she'd looked up at him daring him to contradict her, but he'd raised an eyebrow at her and smirked. Her answering smile had been broader than the one on his first day.

From that day on they had been more cordial to each other. More tuned in to the other's mood. Somehow she knew when to leave him alone and when to joke. He knew the days he could be harsh with her and she would give back as good as he gave and the days he would have to tread carefully. They would go to lunch together and discuss theories. Later on she'd started to confide snippets of her life; how Ron wasn't right for her, how Harry got consumed by his family and didn't make time for her anymore, how she missed her parents, how excited she was about a new book and how she'd found the perfect cottage. He'd even gone to meet the realtor with her.

And somehow… Oh, Riddle's balls! How could he not have realised until now?! Somehow she became his best friend. His best friend in the whole world. If he was grieving now – and ow, how he was – Minerva! – how much worse would it have been if this had been Hermione's funeral? Hermione, who understood his moods on a day to day basis, who would smile so openly at him, who would bring him his favourite coffee from the place around the corner on a hard day, who would recommend books or exhibitions she thought he'd enjoy and who came looking for him today.


	3. Chapter 3

When he came downstairs again, wearing slacks and a soft black sweater with his wet hair tied back in a low ponytail, she was placing his favourite Indian takeaway on plates.

'How are you feeling?' she asked, looking up from her task.

He didn't answer. Instead he walked towards her and gently kissed the top of her head.

She flushed.

'Here', she said, handing him a plate and a cold beer. Then she followed him to the living room with her own plate and beer in hand.

They ate mostly in silence and when they were finished, she asked: 'When was the last time you saw her?'

'The day before she died', he answered.

'Did you know?'

'Looking back I knew it would be the last time, but I didn't want to face it. I didn't tell her I… I didn't tell her how much she meant to me. She was getting tired and I just said: sleep well, I'll see you later Minnie.'

'And you left?'

'No, I sat with her until she was asleep.'

'Did you kiss her goodbye?'

'She smiled, even in her sleep', he said, tears starting to well in his eyes again.

'She knew you loved her', Hermione said, tears now spilling from her own eyes. 'She told me.'

He looked at her in surprise.

'She often spoke of you and the last time I saw her, two days before you did, she told me she was ready to go on. She just had one last thing to do. The hardest thing. She had to say goodbye to 'the boy', to you.'

Severus took a deep breath.

'We talked about love. About how the ones that love us never really leave us, as Albus used to say. And I told her, like I told you this afternoon, that the ones you love never really leave you either. It is great when someone you love actively loves you back, but you don't need permission to love anyone, Severus. And it isn't bound to time, or place or being in someone's company or not. You can love someone for as long as you like. That can be painful, especially when it's unreciprocated love we are talking about, but when it once was, it can be comforting. As much as I miss my parents, I find it comforting to know that they once loved me and that I am still here loving them. And Minerva found comfort in the thought that you, her 'boy', will keep thinking of her with love in your heart.'

She reached out an grabbed his hands.

'I know you are hurting right now, Severus, and I'm not trying to trivialise that. You are going to miss her for a long time – and so will I – but I hope this thought can give you some comfort too.'

He took another deep breath and stroked his thumb over their clasped hands. 'It does', he whispered. 'It does, Hermione, thank you.'

She smiled at him, then yawned.

'It has been a long emotional day', she said. 'I should go now.'

They got up and walked to where her cloak was hanging by the door. She put it on and reached up to stroke the hair that had escaped the elastic band from his ponytail behind his ear.

'You are not alone, Severus. I'll see you in the lab on Monday.'

And she kissed him.

Soft pressure on his lips, and before he realised what happened she said: 'Good night, Severus' and apparated away.


	4. Chapter 4

His revelation in the shower had awakened something in him. He now knew he had cared for Hermione for a long time, but all of a sudden he was so acutely aware of it, it confused him. When had they started touching each other? How had he – a man no one ever touched and who touched no one – not noticed? Why did it feel so natural with her?

He knew Hermione was a very 'physical' person, for lack of a better word. He'd seen her touching her friends hundreds of times when they were in school. She would hug them, or playfully slap them – ha! – or touch their arm or leg while she was talking to them. She would place a comforting hand on a patient's shoulder, but she didn't touch their co-workers, he noticed now that he paid her touching habits more attention. And he had certainly never seen her kiss anyone on the mouth. What did it all mean? What did he want it to mean?

They continued working together like nothing had changed, but for Severus it had. And for Hermione it had too, but he wasn't aware of that.


	5. Chapter 5

Hermione had known she was in love with Severus for a long time now. She also knew he was a very, very prickly man and that building a friendship with him hadn't been easy. If there was ever a chance of him falling in love with her too, she knew she would have to take things extremely slowly. And she had. She had tried to show him that she cared in many little ways, but always minded his personal boundaries. Until the night of the funeral.

He had seemed so lost that day that for the first time she could picture the little boy he must have once been. It had endeared him more to her than she could put into words. When she spoke with him, she felt a mental connection and when he was furious, or in one of his creative moods, he would excite her and make her crave a physical connection, but this… This side of him just made her feel fiercely protective of him. It made her want to take care of him, make him feel safe. Make him feel loved.

And he had let her. He had allowed her to take care of him and she knew it. And she knew that he knew she knew it. It would have been so easy for him to apparate away when he noticed her approaching him by the grave. He could have simply cast an 'obliviate' so she would forget his tears and he could have kicked her out of his house. But he hadn't and it had meant something huge. It meant that he trusted her and that he, in fact, did take comfort from her presence. It gave her hope.

And then she had overstepped. She had kissed him. It hadn't been a passionate kiss and it wasn't meant as such, but she couldn't contain the love she felt for him that evening and had pressed her lips to his. The softest lips she had ever pressed her lips to – not that she'd pressed them to many others. And now she couldn't forget the feel of them. And she couldn't help but wonder how it would feel if those lips kissed her back. Or kissed other places of her body than her forehead – Why had he kissed her forehead? It distracted her.

But they continued working like nothing had changed on the surface. Discussing theories, having lunch, drinking coffee, arguing vehemently at times. But under the surface he was confused, and she was distracted.


	6. Chapter 6

It really was a small miracle that it had taken this long for an accident to happen. Weeks had gone by without even a cut finger. But when an accident finally did occur, it wasn't a small one. It was big. And it was life threatening.

They had been brewing a new version of the Dreamless sleep, because the known version was addictive if taken over a longer period of time. And some war victims just needed it for a while. Another reason for brewing an improved version was that the old one did put the mind at ease, but users would still have the accelerated heartrate that came with nightmares they could no longer 'see', or sweat profusely in their sleep. The new Dreamless sleep was to slow the heartrate down and make sleep more restful by not only calming the mind, but also the body. They were in the final testing stages of the new potion, and fairly certain it was going to be a success: a few drops under the tongue and a peaceful night awaited you.

He ladled a portion in a beaker to let it cool off before examining it under the Muggle microscope Hermione had introduced into their research. As he waited for its temperature to drop, he watched Hermione diligently write down their findings of the day. A wayward curl kept escaping her bun and she repeatedly stroked it behind her ear as she wrote. His fingers itched to do it for her. He had been touching her more as of late to test his hypothesis that his touches were welcome. Placing a hand on her shoulder as he looked over it at whatever she was doing, touching her fingers when he handed her something. She hadn't said anything, but she hadn't shied away from him either, and a few times he'd caught her smiling at him.

Right. The potion. Still looking at her he picked up the beaker to start his examination of its contents, but as he turned away from her, he realised he had picked up her coffee mug instead. Turning back to rectify his mistake he saw something that made his heart drop. Deep in thought she had picked up the beaker and brought it to her lips. And before he could yell, or push it out of her hands, she took a mouthful.

She must have realised her mistake as she swallowed, because she suddenly turned towards him wide eyed. And then she fell to the floor.

That is when he did yell.


	7. Chapter 7

Within seconds he was on the floor with her, gently cradling her head in his lap. She hit it on the floor when she fell, but that wasn't his main concern at the moment. Heartbeat, heartbeat, heartbeat! Please, o Merlin, please let her have one! He placed his fingers on her neck where here pulse should be. And waited.

A beat!

He started counting. One, two, three, four…

Another beat!

He counted again.

The beats came slowly, but steadily and he released the breath he'd been holding. She was alive! But o, what was going to happen now? What did a mouthful of their potion do? Would she wake up again? Would her heart recover? Her brain? He knew it was futile, but he tried it anyway: 'Enervate!'. She didn't stir.

He carefully lifted her in his arms and waved his wand to empty all cauldrons and extinguish the fires underneath them. The research didn't matter. Nothing mattered. Hermione had to be alright. She had to be. He couldn't lose her.

He locked and warded the doors with another wave of his wand and carried her into the elevator and up to the atrium. It was a good thing they worked at a hospital.


	8. Chapter 8

Hermione didn't know if she was dead, or alive, or something else. She didn't know where she was, or who she was, really. Funnily enough she didn't care much either. It was like drifting on a stream of thought. Sometimes she was there, sometimes she wasn't.

Someone else was close by her. A man. She didn't know who he was, or why he was there, but most of the time his presence was comforting. He would speak to her in a low voice and she would try to listen, but she would get lost in the sounds and then she was gone again.

Sometimes he would upset her, though. That was when he cried. She wanted to comfort him, to tell him she was there and that he was just as safe with her as she knew she was with him. But she didn't seem to have a body most of the time.

Sometimes she did. Someone would move her arms, or her legs, or press a cloth to her forehead. And sometimes she would feel pressure on one of her hands. But then she was gone again.

This continued for several days, or years, or centuries. Really, she had no idea. But things did seem to get clearer. Like she was floating slowly to the top of the stream now, instead of just going along.

And then she remembered. Her mind woke up and she remembered. The potion! And Severus! Severus was there! Severus had been speaking to her all this time! Severus had been crying! She needed to wake up fully and tell him that she was alright. That he was going to be alright.

She thought it was going to take a lot of effort, but it didn't. She just opened her eyes.


	9. Chapter 9

The room was lit by a single candle floating near her bed. The white room and the soft blue bedding told her she was in St. Mungo's. In a corner stood a small table with flowers and what looked like a stack of get well-cards. Her heartrate was appearing on a scroll pinned to the wall. It must be magically registering it, because there weren't any wires connected to her. As she watched it, her heartrate became stronger. It made the person sitting in the chair next to her bed look up suddenly, then lock eyes with her.

'Hermione! Oh, thank Merlin, Hermione!'

'Hey Sev'rus', she said, finding her voice again.

He looked awful. His hair greasy and stringy and his face white as a sheet, with big dark circles under his eyes.

'How are you?' he asked. 'Are you in any pain? Oh, Hermione, I'm so, so sorry.'

She looked surprised. 'I'm fine, Severus, but what on earth are you sorry for?'

'I didn't watch the beaker. I should have. I should have never placed it next to your coffee to begin with and I should have watched it. But I got distracted.' His eyes were filled with sorrow.

'It wasn't your fault, Severus! Is that what you've been thinking while I was asleep? It wasn't, Severus! I should have known better than to drink something in a lab. I should have at least made sure there was nothing in my cup that wasn't supposed to be in there. I should have felt I didn't grab my mug, but my mind was wandering and I didn't pay attention. It was a stupid mistake. A very stupid mistake, but please, Severus, don't blame yourself!'

He bent forward and placed his forehead on her bed, the top of his head touching her side.

'I thought I'd lost you', he whispered.

'Oh darling,' she said, 'you haven't. I'm right here.'

And she pushed his greasy hair aside and gently stroked the back of his neck.


	10. Chapter 10

At that moment a healer entered the room.

'Miss Granger, I'm glad to see you awake', he said.

Her fingers stilled for a moment, but as Severus made no move to sit back up, she continued her gentle stroking.

'How are you feeling?', the healer inquired.

'Tired, would you believe it?', she said. 'How long have I been asleep for?'

'You were entering your sixth night.'

'That long!', she exclaimed, then looked at the man still pushing his face into her side and her blankets.

'He wouldn't leave', the healer said. 'He didn't accept any visitors in your room except for me and a few of the nurses and he wouldn't leave. I told him to go home and sleep several times, but…'

She smiled at the healer. 'He can be very stubborn, I know.'

As they were talking the healer had taken his wand out and was now running it up and down over her.

'You seem to be in perfect health, but you should take it very slow for a couple of days. We'll keep you here another night and I'll check on you again in the morning. If nothing has changed, you can go home then.'

'Thank you.'

'You shouldn't be afraid of falling asleep again. It won't be like before.'

'Good,' she responded. 'Would you be so kind as to send a message to Harry Potter, letting him know I'm fine? He'll tell my other would-be visitors. And please tell him not to come barging in here. I do need rest. Tell him I'll telephone him in the morning.'

'Telephone?', the healer said amused.

'Yes,' she replied rather tersely, 'Harry and I both grew up with Muggles.'

'Oh,' he said, 'no! You mustn't misunderstand me! My wife is Muggleborn. She is teaching the children – and me – the best of both worlds. Just last week she bought us all mobiles. We would all go into different rooms in the house and call each other to practice. We had such a great time! I can call mister Potter for you if you give me his number.'

'That would be great', she said, smiling again and lifting her hand from Severus' neck to scribble down the number.

'I'll make sure you won't be disturbed till morning. Have a good night. Both of you', the healer said.

'Thank you, healer…'

'Butterworth.'

'Thank you, healer Butterworth, you too have a good night.'


	11. Chapter 11

'You heard the healer, Severus,' she said as the door closed. 'Time to go to sleep.'

'I'm not going to lea…', he said, lifting up his head.

'Get in the bed, Severus.'

'Excuse me?'

'You heard me. Enlarge it a bit, will you, and get in. Oh, and you could use a cleansing charm. Not showering for days doesn't really agree with your hair. Come to think of it, I could probably use one too.'

Toeing off his boots he waved his hand.

'Oh, wandless. Very impressive. Now come here', and she petted the bed next to her.

The mattress dipped and the next second he was folded around her. Lying on his side, his nose buried in her curls and a possessive arm around her middle, his right leg on top of hers.

'Hermione', he sighed. And within seconds, he was asleep.


	12. Chapter 12

Hours later he woke in the exact same position he had fallen asleep in. Hermione was speaking softly to someone. He lay there listening, but didn't move.

'Shh, Harry. Didn't healer Butterworth tell you I would telephone you?'

'He did, but I thought I'd come and take you home with me Hermione. Gin and I can take care of you for a couple of days.'

'That's very sweet Harry, but not necessary.'

'Is that Snape in your bed?'

'Yes.'

'Why is Snape in your bed, Hermione. Did he…? While you were asleep, did he?'

'Of course not, Harry! He would never.'

'But why?'

'Because he was tired and because I finally had the guts to invite him there.'

'You finally…'

'Yes.'

Silence.

'You know you are always welcome with us, don't you, Hermione?'

'I do, thank you Harry, that means a lot.'

'Will you please call me soon and tell me how you are?'

'I will Harry. Say hello to Gin and the kids for me.'

The door opened, but didn't close.

'Take care of her, Snape.'

'I will, Potter.'

And the door clicked shut.


	13. Chapter 13

Half an hour later Hermione had been released from the hospital and apparated home by Severus. Upon landing in her living room he let go of her immediately and walked over to her fireplace.

'You have a photograph of her.'

'I do.'

He picked it up and looked at a smiling Minerva.

'I haven't seen her since she died.'

'I have more', she said, walking over to stand next to him. 'I can give you one.'

'I'd like that very much', he said, pulling her to his side.

'I like having the people I love most close to me.'

Severus put Minerva carefully back in her place and looked at Hermione's loved ones. Her parents were there, obviously, and elderly people he expected to be her grandparents. There was a photograph of the 'golden trio' in what must have been their fourth year, a picture of a large orange cat and a recent one of Longbottom and Lovegood with two little blond girls. The whole Weasley family was struggling to fit in one frame and next to Minerva… Next to Minerva was a picture of himself.

'She gave it to me.'

He looked at her.

'I told you we talked about love. It is the picture she used to have on her desk.'

He stroked his hand down her arm and caught her hand, pulling her to sit with him on the couch.

'What you said to Potter this morning…'

'I meant it, Severus. Strange isn't it? I told Minerva and Harry before I told you. You are the third person I'll tell. I love you.'

'Hermione…'

'If it's too much for you, I'll understand, but I can't pretend anymore Severus. I grabbed the beaker instead of my coffee because I was distracted. Not with work, but thinking about you. Wondering if you could ever love me too.'

'I was so confused.'

'Why?'

'Because I couldn't believe it was true. And because I couldn't believe I hadn't realised it before Minerva's funeral.'

'That I loved you?'

'And that I loved you. I was looking at you when I picked up your mug. I couldn't take my eyes off you.'

She squeezed his hand.

'Now isn't that something…'

'Indeed.'

And then he kissed her. His lips were just as soft as she remembered, but now they were moving over hers of their own accord. Increasing their pressure and sucking her bottom lip into his mouth. She brought her hands up to his shoulders and fiercely kissed him back. After a few blissful minutes she pulled away.


	14. Chapter 14

'Now don't get me wrong, Severus, but as lovely as that was, I feel awful.'

'What?', he looked crestfallen.

'I finally get my greatest wish,' she said, stroking the hair from his face, 'and all I can think about is how I haven't showered or brushed my teeth in days.'

'You are lovely.'

She laughed.

'Thank you for that. But I'd like to feel lovely too. Could you give me some time? Come back for dinner?'

'I'll bring the shopping, you shouldn't go out yet.'

'I love you', she said, kissing him again.

He got up and walked towards the fireplace. Was it his imagination, or was Minerva smiling more brightly than she had before? When he was about to step into the floo, Hermione called from the couch.

'Oh, and Severus, you might want to bring a change of clothing. I'm inviting you to my bed again tonight.'

Waving his hand to let her know he heard, he stepped into the flames. She didn't need to see his smile to know that it was there.


End file.
